Comment unfairly cut short, for unknown reasons

I read a blog recently: http://bit.ly/2d10OkU, and wanted to make a comment, but my comment was unfortunately cut short by WordPress for some unknown reason. I wanted to be able to write my comment in full so I thought the best way I could think of is post it as a blog post, which I’ve pasted below:

I see where you’re coming from, I feel like an odd one out too in many ways. In terms of what a lot of people like around my age and their views on life, and notice how different I am in comparison. I don’t want to change my ways to fit in with them, I just want to find others that can understand where I’m coming from. To find people that make me feel like I truly belong. I want to express my thoughts, feelings, and views on life and the way it’s treating both myself and other people. I worry that I may be misunderstood, or that my views on life that I post on my Twitter account may scare some people away because I tend to post some heavy subjects about the atrocities happening around the world. I want to be able to express my views, but at the same time, I don’t want to scare people away, >.<;. I want to make friends, not cause friction, but I want to express myself. I feel I need to express my views as I want to be able to find like-minded people.

My PTSD affects me quite badly because it leaves me with triggers in the social and educational world. It makes it extremely difficult to socialise. I myself have been scared off many times because of reading something that immediately triggers bad memories, and I go through an intense battle inside my mind. My depression sinks deeper and deeper, my frustration of how time takes everything away, how the cruel twist of fate cuts me like a knife, the reminder of how behind I am to my peer group. It all triggers this overwhelming intensity inside of me. I end up having this debate with my mum over what happened, how intense my triggers are, my memories and experiences, my inner turmoil raging over, trying to make sense of what happened, realising how traumatic those experiences were, knowing how difficult it is to find the right answers.

Talking about insomnia, tell me about it. I, myself stayed awake for two days yesterday, and it ended with an interesting conversation with a couple of people on the spectrum across Twitter. Now, I’m awake, in the middle of night. My days and nights completely go upside-down almost all the time. It’s because of my depression and frustration. The need to find answers to my questions, the need to fulfil my dreams, the need to find like-minded people and make friends. This is what causes me my insomnia, and it’s difficult to get back on track. I have to stay up over the cause of the following day in order to go to sleep earlier and wake up at a more opportune time. It’s not easy, and the more depressed I feel, the worse it gets. As the season gets closer to winter, I start to notice how dark it is outside, and I often refer to myself as a vampire as my days and nights are completely upside-down. Truth is, my mind is constantly on the go, and I know that the moment I stop listening to my modern Japanese music, stop playing games, watching anime, etc., it all comes flooding back. My battleground puzzle mind, my mind and heart that are constantly conflicting with each other. I can’t go to sleep without reflecting on the differences between myself and others, knowing how alone I truly feel. There have been times when I’ve cried myself to sleep. I watched an episode of Naruto Shippuden a few weeks ago. This episode immediately caused my emotional trigger to go wild. I went through a pretty intensive meltdown. That’s when I just lay there on my bed, talking to myself about how much I needed to find my solution to this pain. I haven’t been able to watch another episode since then. That’s when the next day I badly needed to do something about it. I decided to create a website. I wanted to create a forum to connect with other people on the spectrum hoping to make friends. I created the forum, but I could tell, it was going nowhere, no one was joining, -_-. I wanted to reach out to more people, and that’s why I created a Twitter account, calling myself Toshiro Hitsugaya to relate to anime I like watching (Bleach). I wanted to reach out by tweeting about my views and about my autism, the way it affects me and what I can relate to.

When I found out I was on the autistic spectrum, I was 14 years old. I was going through my breakdown at school. At the time, I wasn’t on the internet. I wasn’t writing on Twitter, speaking on YouTube, writing on WordPress, or on forums, etc. I felt totally alienated and badly bullied at school. I was totally misunderstood, I couldn’t get on with anyone, but then I never instigated conversation. The only time I interjected in a conversation was when I was in Year 3, I was 7 years old. The other children sitting around the table were talking about where they’ve been on holiday. I said I couldn’t go on holiday, and the looks they gave me. Well, if looks could kill, they were good examples. Since that time I never tried to talk to anyone unless they spoke to me.

Throughout school I would wander the playground, totally to myself. I would reflect on my life, and look at the other children running backwards and forwards and I’d think, “Why are you doing that? Why are you wasting time running about when we could be talking about life?”. I then thought about the class I was in, could see the other children sitting with other children, talking to each other. I felt excluded, left out, like no one wanted to know. I didn’t understand. I remember those assemblies about singing positive hymns, and I felt them to be patronising. I also remember that song, “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands”, so if you didn’t as you felt misunderstood and depressed, there’s something wrong with you? There was a saying in these assemblies that I felt had a double meaning. The saying was, “Do onto others as you’d want to be done to yourself”. Now, I felt that those words sounded a little strange if applied to certain children. If I put those words to a bully of mine, I considered what those words meant to them. I felt that if those words were applied to them, were they trying to say, “I’ll hurt you because I want you to hurt me in return”. I didn’t, but I felt that saying was ridiculous. If you tried to tried a bully with kindness and politely, would they really reciprocate and do the same in return? No, they didn’t. I used to allow others in the class to borrow my stationary, even to bullies, I would give food in my lunchbox to others and open the doors to let others through to make friends, did it help me, did my bullies stop bullying me, did it help me to make friends? No, it didn’t. I also noticed the attempts the school tried to make to help children that felt alone make friends. You see, there was this bench in the middle of the playground. This bench was no ordinary bench. It was called a ‘buddy bench’, and it painted in bright rainbow colours. The idea was for other children to sit there if they felt lonely and other children would come up to make friends. I just took one look at the bench and laughed. I thought, “This is a magnet to bullies, like a moth to a lamp! Is this the best they can do?!? They have no idea what it’s like having to cope in this ‘prison’” (prison is the word I like to use to describe school as I find it fits very well considering how the strong would pick on the vulnerable). I remember I was once forced to sit on the bench by one of the teachers. All that happened was that I was asked to play a game called ‘bulldog’. All it considered of was running from one side of the playground to the other, and if you were tagged by the ‘bulldogs’ in the middle, you would be ‘it’, and have to be a ‘bulldog’ in the next running attempt. I participated in one running, but I felt it was useless and pointless. No one came up to me and started talking to me, no one wanted to know, they just wanted me to join a crowd of runners. What was the point, no one understood me, no one would want to listen to my thoughts, no one would be willing to be my friend.

For a long time, I felt totally alone, then at my mother’s suggestion, I started writing to a female I spoke incredibly briefly to in primary school. She agreed to write to me. I used to always smile every time I saw the number “1” written over the messages section of Facebook. I was expressing how I felt this candle light up inside of me every time I received another message from her. It lifted my spirits, if only briefly. Everything was going well, that was until I realised she was connected to the evils of my turbulent past. Before I knew it, I was back to square one, no further forward. I began writing on an ASD forum in the middle of that turbulence, hoping to find like-minded people, it was going well for some time, until I wrote to one of them on private messages, and I was called a ‘child’ in comparison to my messages on the forum. I experienced traumas involving an educational facility, and I was expressing how badly that had affected me and why those triggers would make the environment very hostile to me because of all the encircling memories in my mind. He didn’t understand what I was saying, and by being called a ‘child’, I found it abusive. He immediately triggered yet another meltdown. He was much older than me, in his forties when I was in my late teens.

My meltdowns are as a result of being misunderstood. My cousin is one very, very good example of someone that has never understood me and constantly causes me to meltdown. She’s only seen one side of me, not the side that the outside world does. She always says the opposite of everything I say, and her voice. Wow, I wish you could hear it, the arrogance is so noticeable. I was bullied enough at school to recognise the voice of an arrogant bully. I could always recognise that in my cousin. She would state such hurtful comments like, “I don’t think you have autism”. It was very stressful, but I was diagnosed by a psychiatrist and witnessed by a panel of psychologists, I have a document to prove it, and she didn’t think I was autistic. I’d like to see her live through my eyes, know what it’s like to feel excluded, alienated from others in the school. To see my sensory issues playing havoc with P.E. lessons (which I hated). We would wear shorts in primary school during P.E. lessons, and I would be so scared of other children’s bare legs touching my own, and I would always draw my legs in so that I could be careful. It made it very difficult to concentrate on the teacher’s words. Not to mention the abuse I would hear from the swimming teacher wasn’t going to help me feel a sudden reaction to swim across the pool. Shouting is not the solution, -_-. I couldn’t climb ropes or tell the time on a clock face, and all the time I was at primary school, no one could recognise my autism. It was only after my breakdown in Year 8 of secondary school when I was 13 years old that a SENs history teacher mentioned that she thought I was autistic and that was during a meeting. My cousin even said to me, “Let’s go to Japan”. I thought, “Sure, I’ll just grow a pair of wings and fly there right now, shall I ?!?”. I explained to her all of the difficulties I would have simply going to a crowded airport, the claustrophobic aeroplane, the constant worry about the safety of the plane. Then getting to Japan, getting off the plane into a completely different and alien environment, worrying constantly (“Will I be alright? What are we going to do? Where is the hotel? How can I sleep in an unfamiliar bed, touching alien sheets?”). That’s another very important point, my OCD and SPD would play havoc in a hotel. I’d need to bring my own sheets and pillow cases, I’d need to cover from head to toe, leaving no skin exposed. The whole environment would be far too hostile. Yes, I’d love to go to Japan, yes, I love the modern entertainment over there, yes, I know some of their history (Sengoku period, and when it comes to China, the Romance of the Three Kingdoms era),  I love their old architecture with the old temples, red gates and pagodas, I love their natural world, from the really old wisterias, cherry blossoms (sakura), maple trees, and ancient bonsai trees, but my difficulties make the whole experience of travelling to Japan feel like travelling to Mars, -_-;.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous blog post, that my anxiety is a tidal wave. It’s so true in so many ways. Writing on the internet felt the same as well. I can remember in the early days, in my mid teens, I would play MMORPGs, Massive Multiplayer Online Role Play Games, not to talk to other people, but to simply play the game. To feel what it was like to escape into my own world. The video gaming world. Video games were a big part of my life, video games were my escape coming back from a torturous day at school. Video games were my escape if only briefly. I tried all sorts of MMORPGs as I wanted to continually explore different worlds, different experiences, different dimensions that I escape into. However; I started noticing other people started to write to me on those MMORPGs. I was shocked to see someone was writing to me. I looked at the small sentence responses with their usual emoticons, and worried for a moment. What should I do, what do I say?!? I began to write a couple of words and smiley in response. Usually that was just it, but sometimes I found that it didn’t stop there. Sometimes they would continue writing. Sometimes I was slightly annoyed as I wanted to continue playing, yet other times I started to wonder. I would write a few words in response, and before I knew it. I was typing these small messages to people all around the world. Most of the time, we just wrote to each other about simpler things, like who likes what anime (Japanese animation) that sort of thing. On the occasion, I could remember writing to someone about what happened to their country in the past. All of these conversations were instigated by other people, and spun short little responses too and fro, and I never wrote to them again.

There was one unfortunate situation that happened a year or two ago that took on a completely different twist. I was writing to this one person on this MMORPG, and we wrote to each other for some time, and found out she was from the Netherlands (sometimes it’s so interesting writing to these people when they speak such good English. I wish I could understand and speak Japanese as efficiently as they can write in English), I even brought up my older blog and YouTube channel. She started to look at it, came back to me, and we continued writing. She asked if I was on Skype. I told her that I couldn’t cope with talking to someone face-to-face on Skype, this was especially true to someone I hardly knew at all, >.<;. I didn’t know much about Skype, I’d never used it much before, but she told me that she meant messenger in Skype. I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but I eventually saw what she meant. At the time, I wanted to find out what would happen if I wrote to someone, as I never knew what it would be like to write to someone from these MMORPGs since I’d been playing them for so many years. We began writing to each other on Skype messenger, and across the MMORPG we were playing. It was going well for a while. Of course, I was cautious never to bring up anything that would link to my credential information, but I did express my experiences in life and told her I’m on the spectrum. What she was telling me about her own situation sounded so extreme, I didn’t quite know exactly how to respond, >.<;. Nevertheless, she told me that she’s played a lot of MMORPGs herself, eventually we went onto a different MMORPG, and played that briefly. She was talking to me about what games we liked, and she was talking about first person shooting games. I was expressing that I didn’t like those games because I felt it was senseless violence shooting each other. I told her how I liked games with a story that I could lose myself in. I tried one of these shooting games she mentioned, but I got bored very quickly and couldn’t understand the fascination, -_-. Anyway, we eventually went back to the original MMORPG. That’s when things slowly started to turn sour. I then began playing this MMORPG with two other people that this Skype person referred me to. We played in a four-character party. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. That was until something happened. Apparently one of the characters said something, well, not exactly said something, it was more a ‘whisper message’, to this person I was writing to. She immediately took offence by it, I was lost, I didn’t know what to. I tried to write to this person from Skype. That’s when this person from Skype said she was going to stop playing. She told me that I could continue playing. I said that I wouldn’t if she didn’t want me to. I wanted to do the right thing. I didn’t know what to do. I was lost, >.<. I keep asking her, “Are you sure?”, “I won’t if you don’t want me to”. She kept telling me, “Yes, continue playing. It’s alright. I just need a break”. I didn’t know what to do. In the end, I continued playing. Little did I know, it was the calm before the storm. As soon as I stopped playing, and wrote to her on Skype, she totally flipped. It was like I was writing to a completely different person. She was swearing at me, accusing me of not caring. I didn’t know what to do, I was apologising, asking what if there was something I could do to help. She was just telling me to virtually ‘get lost’, in different words, >.<;. I didn’t know what I did. She then changed her profile image to one of her swearing at the camera.

I was always worried about writing on Twitter, this was because I couldn’t face writing small abbreviated messages, I felt I would be misunderstood, and I wouldn’t have enough space to express myself. Then I started to notice other people on the spectrum were making blogs on WordPress, and I decided to reach out to my old and dusty WordPress account and restart. I then felt brave and wanted to write to someone on the spectrum on Twitter yesterday, and I was redirected to other people on the spectrum on WordPress that have their own blogs. It’s interesting to read how others on the spectrum feel. I want to be able to connect with these people and make new friends, :).

Traumatising experiences in education that left me with a breakdown and PTSD

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve last uploaded on my WordPress blog, but a lot of things keep getting in the way. Now that I have my forum, I wanted to be able to add some more content to my blog and explain more about my situation and indeed what lead me to create my forum.

Now if you’ve read my second post, you’d understand how badly I was bullied at school. Of course, that is all but a fraction of it, but I hope it gives you a taster as to how alienated I felt back then. I still feel alienated in terms of finding it difficult to connect with others. I’ve found it very difficult to use Twitter because I always felt it was difficult to express myself with very limited character allowances in tweets. I felt I couldn’t express myself properly in a short sentence. This is indeed why I decided to connect my Twitter account to WordPress, and of course from WordPress and Twitter to my forum as well.

I am affected quite badly by the experiences I went through during my school life and still am, it felt more like a prison. It traumatised me so much that I can never think of an educational facility with any more feeling than a hostile environment where the arrogant pick on the vulnerable. The school system from my perspective was atrocious with dealing with bullying. The schools found no real way of tackling the issue.

Throughout school I always had an analytical mind as I was strolling on my own around the playground, or school grounds. I would question everything that was around me, and sinking deeper into depression as I kept realising how hopeless I felt trying to find common ground with others in school. I couldn’t connect with others as I didn’t know what to talk to them about. In primary school, all I witnessed was other children running backwards and forwards. I felt it was pointless, I couldn’t see the point. Why not just sit and talk about what is happening at school at the moment, like how badly the bullies are bullying us. In secondary school, I was already hurt quite badly by emotional bullying from the last year of primary school. It hurt me so badly that any feeling of openness I may have felt like expressing before became totally guarded. I withdrew into myself. I felt extremely cautious of everything around me. In both primary school and secondary school, I never felt confident enough to speak to anyone. Nearly every experience I had in terms of talking to someone was due to elements out of my control.

All of the following events that took place are totally out of my control and happen to me because of other people coming up to me and talking, and the responses I gave are as a reaction to what I felt at the time. I was introduced to my first ‘friend’ in primary school and that ended in failure, mainly because his parents couldn’t understand my difficulties with eating certain foods to my sensory issues (SPD). In secondary school, I ended up talking to my second friend only because there were no seats available when I had to take a seat. I was never the instigator of conversation, other people came to me and began a dialogue. I felt too anxious to go up to anyone and make conversation. What lead to my emotional pain was a bully asking me who I had a crush on, of which I let my guard down and spoke up at a time when I shouldn’t have. This came back in my face and that’s when my world sank from alienation to total and utter despair. I was called a ‘creep’ by my crush, which in turn did just that, crush me. Well and truly. After that point it felt like I was hit by a sledgehammer. I was dead inside, a walking corpse. Photographs of myself clearly indicate how any expressiveness that I had shown before, like peace signs and thumbs up completely vanished, and all that was left was a forced blank smile. In secondary school, a moment occurred in the year of my breakdown which was completely out of the blue and completely unexpected, especially because I felt so alienated. Three girls came up to me, who weren’t even in the same class as me, and one of them told me of their friend’s crush on me. Talk about the boot being on the other foot. I was totally shocked and taken aback by her words. I didn’t know what to say, on the one hand I was thinking, “Wow, this has never happened to me before. This is amazing!”, however; the stronger analytical side of me was saying, “Hang on a minute, the last time crushes were involved, you were called a ‘creep’. Do you really think it’s advisable to take them on their words? She could be teasing you, how do you know?”. I dismissed them politely, thanking them, and moved on. Given some time, I simply thought it was just a dream, a figment of my imagination, after all, that type of thing had never happened to me before. I didn’t know how to process that information properly, it was completely alien to me, welcoming, but strange. I didn’t know what to believe, true or false, I had no idea. I could only process the pain that I experienced before out of bullying. I seriously regretted the response I gave for what happened next. I came into contact with the girl that had this crush on me twice more some time after school, and after I was diagnosed with OCD and ASD (autism) when I was 14 years old, I never returned to school when I was 13 ¾ years old following my breakdown in year 8. I will have to explain this in detail in blog post later on. Anyway, going back to this girl, I saw her one time she worked as a bank clerk in a building society. She processed the money incorrectly when I went there with my mother to add money to my account. It hit me, I suddenly thought, “Did she make a mistake because she was shocked to see me? In that case, she really did have a crush on me, didn’t she?!? You stupid idiot!”. Ever since that time I’ve been constantly reciting that very line to myself every time my mind processes emotional feelings, ‘You stupid idiot’. I saw her again at the local arts centre, sitting around a group of people. She was waving and smiling at me from a long distance, like she noticed me deliberately. I had my back to her, I didn’t even now she noticed me. When my aunt and mother told me, I smiled and waved back. I bet she wanted me to come up to her and talk, but there was no way I could, not with all those people sitting with her. It made me far too anxious. Both times my anxiety was too intense as there were so many people around, both at the building society and the arts centre. I couldn’t go up and talk to her on either occasion and even if I could, what would I have said, “Did you come up to me with your friends and talk about your crush on me?”. Sure, with all my intense anxiety and with all those other people sitting around her, or at the stressful building society with waiting people, I could just come out and say the most embarrassing question to a girl. To me, I’ve always considered girls with awe. I had several crushes in my life, but I could never act on any of them, I was far too nervous and anxious. I was too concerned that if I went up to them, I wouldn’t know what to say, and if I say the wrong thing I would be hurt badly. After I was called a ‘creep’, the awareness of the power a girl could have in rejection terrified me, especially with my difficulties with socialising in general. This has never changed, but I’m not so terrified as I’d never want to talk to girls. I just want to find the right way to express myself and start a dialogue that can grow. I want to find a way to socialise on my terms, a way to get to know someone steadily over writing to them, but I find it difficult to instigate conversation. A personal reason why I created my forum is to attract others to write to me so that I can build upon my own social rapport with women around my age. I want to conquer that fear, and grow a strong bond.

Anyway, all of those main events in terms of talking to others happened out of my control. I have never had the confidence to start socialising with someone out of the blue. It is totally out of my zone. I find it far too difficult. I wouldn’t know where to begin, whether they’d want to know. Or, the most important aspect of all, if I am reminded of my triggers. You see, if I did write to someone and I found out something that reminds me of education or having girlfriends or boyfriends, well, it would bring back all those pains that I’ve been through and they would hit me all over again. It would immediately trigger a meltdown, and I couldn’t face responding. I would be in too much pain. This has caused me a lot of problems, and is a very prominent reason as to why I haven’t felt the confidence to write to others around my age. I’m in fear that it will trigger my bad memories, and they are all very sharp. I want to be able to make new friends, socialise, and find that strong connection I’ve been searching so hard to find. I’ve written on my forum about triggers, but I’ll have to create a blog post about them at some point, but they are one of the main reasons why I find it so difficult to open up to others around my age, I can’t bear to bring all that pain back again every time I exchange messages.

Being bullied at school – Part 1

Throughout school I encountered bullies and when you have no friends those bullies can have an even greater impact. Many incidents have happened to me with bullies at school and one incident that was particularly bad involving the P.E. teacher who was also the head of year.

As far as I was concerned school consisted of bullies, those that were neutral and, if you’re lucky, a friend. For most of primary school only the former two surrounded me. As I was going into year five of primary school I felt I had to change classes due to people bullying me. I was glad of this, though to be honest, I was still bullied in the other class as well.

I noticed I was the only person in class who used to put my head on the table and cry when something went really bad, like being bullied. The thing is I remember the table top most of all; it would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic. In secondary school the tolerance I had to bullying was still crying but also telling them to go away, it made no difference though. I told the teachers many times and it made absolutely no difference, they would just keep bullying.

I think it was either in the fifth year or the sixth year that a bully from my previous class came up to me in the playground just before the bell rang to go into class either during break or lunch time. He came up to me and punched me square in the stomach and I was winded for a few seconds. I looked up at his face and there was the biggest Cheshire cat grin I’ve ever seen from one cheek to another. This was just one of the experiences I had of bullying in primary school. Much later I think I found out from television that he appeared on the television programme Road Wars and was arrested for apparently stealing alcohol. He was just as arrogant as he was in person all those years ago. This gives you an idea of how much I hated school. I could look at it saying that he was arrested so that was that, but at the same time, I was in a class with a soon-to-be criminal that used to bully me a lot at school. That brought back horrible memories.

In both primary school and secondary school two different bullies, including the one I mentioned above, seemed the same in one particular category, arrogance, and oh yes they had plenty of that. They both used to have wide grins on their faces. The one in secondary school was very good at P.E.; most bullies tend to be don’t they, but he mainly enjoyed psychological bullying. One such example is that he used to annoyingly brush his hand across my head in a patronising way, and that was most annoying. I didn’t know at the time that I had SPD but he took advantage of it, it’s as if he could read the difficulties people had and made the effort of taking advantage of it. There were also two other bullies who enjoyed coming up to people and making funny noises directly into their ears, that was very irritating especially when you have SPD. A bully also poured drink over my head once.

I was always afraid of being told off at school. School felt like a prison to me. I tried my best to get through every prison day to get to my haven, home. When I was in secondary school, there was an incident where the students started messing with a loose paving stone on the ground. I didn’t understand why they were doing it but I tried it to see what the fascination was thinking nothing of it if I was careful, and then out of nowhere someone else jumped on the other side, of course creating an imbalance of weight which in turn caused it to crack. One of my long standing bullies couldn’t wait to tell the P.E. teacher as P.E. was my next lesson and so he ran off at the speed of light, and I could swear he was relishing it. The world suddenly froze at that moment and my heart sank instantly. I have never forgotten it.   I REALLY couldn’t go into P.E. at that time, but I had to, I don’t skip classes. I terrifyingly walked into the P.E. changing room, like a zombie, awaiting the worst but knew I couldn’t cope with it. My life seemed over at that point. My P.E. teacher was also the head of year. He must have been told because when I got changed into my P.E. kit and entered the gym hall he said he wanted to have a word with me. Firstly he got everyone doing an activity then he asked me to sit with him on a small set of table and two chairs in the same room with everyone else (My head was drumming and my heart sank even further, so far I thought that this is it, the end of the road. I thought that my life was over. I knew nothing good would come of this. I was in a living nightmare. I wanted to get out at the nearest opportunity, but that’s not me.  I do the best I can in school, and try to come out the other side unscathed from the prison that kept me there for the first half of the day.). I, painfully slowly, made my way towards the chair. I wanted nothing more than to make a run for it to be free, as I knew exactly what was coming, my life was crashing down around me, and I couldn’t take it. I was amongst the other students in the gym hall but when it came to support, I was alone. He then asked me the painful question “did you step on the paving stone?” and “why did you do it?”, I immediately broke into tears and crossed my arms in front of my face on the table, in a defensive move, as I usually do when I break down in tears, which for me was quite frequent and cried, and cried, and cried. I couldn’t stop crying. The other boy that jumped on the other side of the paving stone came up to me to ask if I was alright. No, I wasn’t alright, I had the head of year interrogating me in front of everyone about something I had no control over. The teacher was even saying “What are you crying for?” over and over again, wasn’t it obvious, I thought, he quite obviously didn’t, though for the life of me I couldn’t understand why, and still can’t. I was in great pain, for many reasons. In fact I never stopped crying all the way home and for days after that, I never attended school during that time either, and I never ever went back. The pain it caused was so fierce I couldn’t face walking into that prison with the ‘head police officer’ being the cause of my pain. The welfare officer for the school knew how badly I was bullied as I was going to him for a while previously over it. It had hurt so badly that when the welfare officer came several times to try to get me back to school, I had this adamant feeling that I have never experienced in my life, and kept saying very strongly ”NO, I can’t”, I was never confident enough to come out as defiantly as that but I did and he knew I meant it. After the bullying, it was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. He knew I wasn’t someone who would cause problems and it was very difficult for me to say no to authority figures, he knew then this problem was very serious. That is the reason why I have not been in school since. I will explain the way I have been taught since then until recently.

Hello, welcome to my blog

My alias is Toshiro Hitsugaya and before my birthday this year am 20 years old. I have aspergers syndrome (AS), sensory processing disorder (SPD), obsessional compulsive disorder (OCD) and post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Life can be very stressful trying to cope with these conditions, every day is a struggle. The websites that I’ve given as references with the links above are just three of the many websites that explain about what these conditions are. 

For a long time now I have been contemplating creating a blog. I have never been able to get around to it. Now, at last, I’m trying to create one. I have a lot to say but am never sure where to put my words. I thought that writing a blog would be a good idea. There are many thoughts spinning around my head. Life can feel quite depressing. I will start to put a lot of my thoughts into this blog. I have never done anything like this before but I’m willing to give it a go and see where it ends up. I wrote a lot of things in the past and I thought now would be a good time to put it all together.